


In the Green Moonlight

by Boris_The_Spider



Category: Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: Body Modification, Choking, Corruption, Drug Use, Extremely Dubious Consent, Like 4 lines of hetero stuff which includes incest and futa but isn't the focus of the story., M/M, Mind Break, Mind Control, Monster - Freeform, Multi, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Stomach Bulge, Throat Bulge, extreme french kissing, hand holding, magical branding, sensory confusion, small bit of inflation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29466972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boris_The_Spider/pseuds/Boris_The_Spider
Summary: Optimistic young servant finds out that there's more to the nobles he works for than he ever anticipated.OrThe author found the lack of Beastmen and Slaanesh smut to be sorely lacking and decided to take action.This is my first story, please judge it, I need to learn.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	In the Green Moonlight

_First things first, I of course do not claim any ownership over the original ideas of Games Workshop or Warhammer Fantasy. _  
 _This is my very first story, I don’t expect it to be great, and I’m open to criticism. I wrote this because there’s not an absolute ton of Warhammer stories and none, to my knowledge, with beastmen. _____

____Kurtis had been working for the Stolberg family since he was but a child. His parents were slain in an attack upon the household when he was only ten, and Kurtis was faced with the prospects of either servitude to his parents’ keepers or striking out into the streets of Nuln. He reluctantly chose safety over freedom and had been working for them since. But they were not cruel keepers; his quarters were pleasant and his pay, though modest, was fair. To have a roof and 3 meals in these trying times was a blessing in any form, and though he never got to eat with the family they were never so cruel as to throw away their scraps. The last bit of broth and the last leg of pheasant tastes just the same as the first, Kurtis thought as he added the tasty treats to his daily meal of bread and lentils._ _ _ _

____In 9 years of work Kurtis had become quite proficient at his duties, knowing every nook and most crannies of the Stolberg estate. He felt a debt to them, perhaps undue, as though to them he may have been another loyal servant to him they were the closest thing to a family he had. This could have been used against him, but instead they rewarded his dedication in less tangible ways. Kurtis learned to read, learned to ride a horse, learned to dance, and even a sparce bit of swordplay._ _ _ _

____Nothing ever seemed amiss, and nothing Kurtis could think of would make him want to leave this life, modest though it may be. In fact, he took pride in trying to be the most memorable and dutiful servant in the entire estate, a pride that was often bruised by ones who were decades his senior but a pride none the less._ _ _ _

____Today his duties have taken him to the estate’s courtyard. He was to be relieved for the day in but an hour but his last bit of work for the day, as it has been for the past few months, was to be a training dummy for his master’s son, Walter. Walter was only a year older than Kurtis, but he was 10 years his senior with the sword. If Kurtis could maybe pass for a state troop or a particularly competent militia member then Walter was at least equivalent to a lesser knight. This day would doubtless end, as so many others have, with Kurtis bruised and winded and Walter barely rustled.  
But despite this Kurtis treasured these fights. They were fun, even if a little one-sided, and despite his many winning streaks Walter was never cruel in their little training bouts. He was always eager to try new methods his teacher had taught him, and what better way than against a live target. Most of the servants didn’t appreciate the bruises but Kurtis was just excited to be able to hold a sword (even only a blunted one) and more importantly to spend time with Walter._ _ _ _

____He could never admit it of course, such a thing just wouldn’t be proper, but he admired Walter in much more than a friendly way. He was a beautiful man of course, as so many of the women in the city would notice, but Kurtis saw he was also genuine and kind. He wanted to spend every moment he could with his keeper’s son, even if it could never possibly blossom into anything more.  
As today’s fight came to a close, Kurtis hadn’t landed a single solid hit on the lordling, while sporting many more bruises than usual of his own. It frustrated him, if only because he was worried that if he wasn’t a competent enough training partner Walter may seek one elsewhere. With his last bit of energy he went on the attack, deliberately taking a foolish strike hoping to take his partner off guard. Indeed too, he did, but the lordling was too fast regardless and managed to disarm Kurtis for his trouble. Trying to press any advantage he might still have from the ruse the servant grabbed his partners arm and attempted to wrench him to the ground, hoping that the strength of one who spends his days washing floors and mucking stables may be more than that of a lordling who spends his days chasing whores and fucking what he is able. It was not to be though, as the lordling pivoted with his servant, taking them both to the ground, but with him still holding his sword and more than able to strike._ _ _ _

____“Blast Kurt, are you frustrated today or something? Nearly wrenched my arm off!”  
Kurtis realized he may have gone too far and stammered an apology.  
“I’m sorry m’lord, I was just trying to improvise, I can leave if you wish.”  
“Don’t be sorry, this is the most I’ve kissed the dirt in over a month, and don’t leave, none of the other servants want to raise swords with me anymore. You’re the only one who’ll keep this up.”  
“I’m just happy to serve”  
“Yeah well, about that, here”  
Walter produces a few coins from his pocket, pence for him but over a month’s pay for Kurtis.  
“Family’s having a gala tonight, you know the kind, I hate having to tell you to not be around but…”  
“No, I’m aware, senior servants only.”  
“Yeah, you know, so look just...take this and have yourself some fun out in Nuln tonight. Maybe find yourself an inn room with someone to keep you warm, this should be enough to cover just about anyone you can’t charm out of a dress”_ _ _ _

____Walter gave a wink as he passed over the coins. It was genuinely a generous gift, though one Kurt saw himself unlikely to use for its intended purposes. He wasn’t likely to find the kind of person he’d want keeping his bed warm tonight, and he generally disliked staying at Inns. He would spend some of course, maybe buy a tasty treat from the baker, but save the rest. Maybe save up enough someday to buy his own sword, if he could practice in private then perhaps he could close some of the gap between him and Walter’s skill. Hey, a lad can dream._ _ _ _

____With their practice over Walter left to clean up for the party. Kurtis always wondered what a nobleman’s party was like, and thought before of spying, but was unwilling to jeopardize his position and simply reasoned that he’d probably see once -he’s- one of the senior servants. He returned to his room to lay out plans for the night. He would leave the house as he’s expected too and go out into the city. A quick trip to the baker for a treat, a trip to the gold road alchemist for a small but very specific potion, and a quiet return home to sneak back into his room for a bit of private fun. Said private fun lie stuffed far beneath his bed at the moment. A polished wooden phallus commissioned from a carver with a mind for discretion when a little extra coin is laid down. It wasn’t a cheap toy but the prospect of Kurt’s own amateur hands carving one gave his mind the thought of splinters in places he didn’t want to risk. The “potion” with it was similarly pricey and, unlike the phallus, ran out. There were substitutes he could use of course but none worked quite as smoothly as the gold alchemists potion, and counting through the newly gained coin Kurt decided that the sword isn’t coming any time soon so it won’t mind waiting just a little bit longer._ _ _ _

____Into the smokey city he went, coins hidden safely on his person. The sun was still up for a few hours and he had plenty of time. The baker was nearly sold out for the day, but Kurt was able to purchase a fruit pastry with some of his coin, the easy part was over at least. As he walked down the gold road towards the alchemist’s shop he got nervous, as he did the last two times he made this same walk, and unconsciously tried to hunch his head as if it would hide his face._ _ _ _

____Inside he was assaulted with a host of unpleasant smells. Potions and concoctions that he knew neither the purpose nor effect of. The man behind the counter, a gold wizard acolyte from Kurt’s assumption, was imposing and silent as he entered. The gold mask hiding his face left Kurt unsure if this was even the same man he purchased from before, but with a weight in his gut he managed to walk to the counter and squeak out his request._ _ _ _

____“I need some of the clear oil, the, uh, the kind that’s safe for skin”  
If the wizard’s expression changed then Kurt sure couldn’t see it.  
“Ah yes, for a friend of yours if I recall”  
“Yeah, yes…sir. For a friend”  
“Of course”  
The wizard produced a clear bottle identical to the two empty ones beneath Kurtis’ bed, and Kurt produced two coins identical to the four he’d spent here before.  
“Sigmar guide you”  
“And also with you”_ _ _ _

____Fuck, that was wrong. Kurt hurried out of the store. Wizards scared the shit out of Kurtis, though he also found them fascinating…in concept…from a distance…such as the distance of reading about one in a book. Kurtis thinks he would like to study magic, but that seemed as likely of a prospect as him beating Walter in a fight. As he hurried back to the manor he pondered if the wizard could send animals to spy on him and what he does with the oil. Hopefully that kind of wizard can’t do that. Hopefully._ _ _ _

____The sun was parting and Morrslieb dominated the sky by the time Kurtis made it back to the manor. He was eager to get inside, for little good happened under that dread moon, and he quickly squeezed through a gap he knew of in the curtain wall to sneak in unseen. Coaches were already outside the manor when he returned, the Gala no doubt just starting. As he entered a side hall he could, even this far from the ballroom, hear the commotion of the party. “Maybe someday” he thought as he slinked towards his room. The manor had many hidden passages the servants could use to move about unseen, but even in these musty gaps Kurt could hear the din of the party as he slipped through the walls._ _ _ _

____At one point he was nearly caught, two guests had wandered far from the gala, their footsteps uneven and stumbling. They were both giggling as they wandered the halls, the woman’s perfume so strong Kurt could smell it almost before he could hear them. Kurtis thought about guiding them back to the ballroom but thought against it as he wasn’t sure if he’d get in trouble for it. The woman’s perfume lingered in his mind though, way too strong but not unpleasant despite it._ _ _ _

____Finding his room, he shut the door and prepared for his own night of festivities. He finished off the last of the danish before chasing it with some water from a pitcher he kept. Then he, quietly as he could, locked the door. A private chamber and a locking door were something not every servant, even in this very household, could expect but Kurtis had managed to gain one through due diligence. It wasn’t very large of course, but it had enough room for Kurt so he didn’t see much the issue. It wasn’t like he’d be sharing it with anyone anyway._ _ _ _

____With the door latched he started to remove his clothes, noticing, as he always does, the wooden carving of the twin tailed comet he has on his shelf. He placed it face down and pushed it under some of his spare clothes. “Nothing holy is happening in here tonight.” As he removed the rest of his clothes, he stood naked for a moment, enjoying the comfort of nudity. He was already stiff with anticipation, his member standing at attention and waiting for action. Deciding to get down to business he removed the stopper from his new bottle of oil. Taking a little on his finger he slid his hand between his cheeks and started to move the slickened finger around his small but pliable ring. At this point he was practiced enough to make short work of the little resistance his hole still gave to his fingers, scissoring his middle and index finger back and forth, pressing each into his prostate one after the other to break the dutiful ring’s willpower. There was some discomfort of course, but it faded quickly enough as an experienced hand teased out the last of his hole’s defiance. When he felt comfortable enough, he retrieved his polished wooden friend and laid himself upon his back in bed. Greasing the shaft with the alchemist’s oil he braced himself as he pushed the first inch of the shaft into himself. Working with gentle thrusts he managed to ease ever so slightly more and more of the intruding rod. As he worked it deeper, he started to think his usual thoughts, thoughts of Walter, and what Kurt wished they could do together. But the scent of that wicked perfume kept clouding his mind. Now the fairer sex never disgusted Kurt, but just as well he had rarely looked at them with the eyes men tend to. But as he remembered the perfume, he imagined what she might have looked like. The perfume was odd so he pictured her as different somehow, but couldn’t place how. Perhaps she was from a different land, that would explain why he’s fixating on this so much. As his thoughts of Walter mixed with the scent of this perfume poisoning his mind, he felt himself starting to get lost, get dizzy, as he slowly approached a building orgasm. This was new to him, as he hadn’t even touched his own phallus yet, but it was coming none the less. But just as it was reaching a crescendo he heard a noise, a whisper actually, in his ear._ _ _ _

____Kurt bolted to a stop, the wooden phallus clattering to the floor, and the hairs on his arm standing completely up. He covered himself the best he could, searching for whoever said…whatever it was they said. It occurred to him he couldn’t even remember. As he called out quietly it dawned on him that he was, in fact, alone and that whatever he’d heard must have been his imagination. Unable to locate his wooden phallus but still hard, he decided he’d best just finish what he’d started and get to sleep. As his hand gripped his member it felt painfully hard, and maybe even…larger? No, that couldn’t be, he thought as he stared pumping it. Still unable to locate the phallus, he returned to using his fingers, upgrading to three right away as his body almost demanded it at this point. He felt at any moment like his balls could burst, spewing their contents across his bed, but it wasn’t coming now for some reason. Like something had seized him, preventing him. He pumped harder, even pushed in another finger forming a wedge nearly the size of his fist, but for some reason his body wasn’t sated and only thirsted for more. His mind in a fog, thick as that perfume he’d smelt, as he looked desperately for the wooden phallus to help him finish his task. Going to bed without finishing just wasn’t an option at this point. After looking for what felt like forever, he noticed something to his great concern, the door to his room was opened. Not much, but a little. Certain he had locked it he went to it to repeat the task, only to spot through the crack of the door his missing toy. It must have bounced out the door when he panicked. Mortified and worried what might happen if someone were to find it, he quickly garbed himself and slinked out into the hallway as quietly as he could possibly be. Of course, the hall was empty, all the other servants were either in town or at the gala, but the terror was still very real._ _ _ _

____As he pocketed the phallus, he heard the gala again, which must be getting loud considering he can hear it from so far. His mind-fog thick he started to wander towards it. Over and over his every instinct screamed to go back to his room, finish up, and go to bed, and over and over he kept taking steps towards the gala. As he was three halls away, he could hear more of the music, a wonderful song that danced playfully across his eardrums. Two halls away he could smell that perfume again, assaulting his nostrils with its pungent yet intoxicating smell, adding clouds to his mind fog. At the hall outside the ballroom he could hear…slapping. Flesh on flesh. For a moment he lied to himself and said it must be some kind of dance, but even his own willful ignorance wasn’t enough to prop that lie up. He knew what was happening in there, and by all that was holy he wanted to see._ _ _ _

____As he cracked the door for a peek the sights, sounds, and smells of the room assailed him. Overwhelmed with the sheer content of what was going on, he was only able to make out a few key details, but what wild details they were. The music being played, by a woman naked save for a few silk sashes that didn’t even hide what they were supposed, was played upon a harp that appeared to be made of bone and sinew, that…pulsated as the notes were struck. A fog hung low in the air, that “perfume”, clouding everything in an almost pinkish mist. And everywhere there was open fucking. The word stuck deliberately in his head, as Kurt witnessed no lovemaking, no tenderness, just fucking. Groups and piles of men and women, with each other, with themselves, with no regard for gender, roles, or partner. Men with other men’s wives, men with other men, women with other women. All grinding and rutting into each other like dogs. And amidst this there were monsters Kurtis dared not look at for long. A nude woman with a form twisted by chaos, and an arm ending in a crab’s pincher, thrust her gorging member into a nobleman whom Kurt didn’t recognize. A beastman, a horrid amalgamation of man and goat, was being massaged by two women, his loincloth worshiped like a shrine as he puffed on the smoke coming out of a glass vial. Men and women alike had tattoos, brands, and piercings, all laid out in profane symbology that Kurt did not even begin to recognize. But the most jarring of sights, the one most personal, that Kurt witnessed: Lady Stolberg, legs splayed open wide, being ploughed by Walter Stolberg, her own son._ _ _ _

____Both nude, both wearing faces he’d never seen them make, making sounds he’d never heard them utter. They were themselves, very clearly so, but at the same time Kurtis almost couldn’t recognize them. Wild thoughtless passion played out as he violently thrust into her snatch, gaping open the hole he himself came out of. The disgust of the scene wasn’t enough to drive Kurt away though, his eyes like pie plates glued on the scene, of Walter’s tensed back muscles as he held his mother’s legs open, of his muscular cheeks clenching every time he thrust into her._ _ _ _

_____“You can be the first to part those mounds if you wish,” _he heard a whisper say.__ _ _ _ _

______The noise startled him, if only for a moment, and he tried to not make a noise but he must have. Several party goers now noticed the extra pair of eyes staring from the door. Walter noticed too. Terror gripped Kurtis’ heart as his feet found new motivation and he turned tail to run from the scene. He heard Walter shout out:_ _ _ _ _ _

______“YOU! SLAANGOR go catch our guest! Deal with them how you see fit but I don’t want them leaving!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt didn’t look back, as loud as his own footsteps were, he quickly heard the sound of a door being wrenched open and hoofbeats gaining behind him. He knew of a dozen secret passages in this very hall but for some reason the panic and the mind fog kept all of them from his mind, even as he tried to recall. He rounded the sharpest corners he could find, hoping the beast’s bulk would carry it farther past the turn, and buy him time. The music seemed to only get louder as he ran, the perfume was singing it now, even as he ran he could taste the pleasure of those people in the room now a hundred feet behind him, he could smell their laughter. His heartbeat provided the bass that backed the drumbeats of his feet, the staccato notes of the hooves clapping and chipping wooden floors behind him added to the music the two were making. Kurt’s fogged mind was momentarily concerned about the damage those hooves were doing to the fine wood floors he was expected to scrub and care for, as though in this situation that was the most pressing worry._ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Slow, let him take you.” _He could smell the whisper say. His horror the foremost focused on how he almost considered it.__ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But the choice was quickly taken from him, the creature moved nimbler than one its mass should have been able to, every corner Kurtis rounded to try and throw it off, the beast instead gained upon him, and in the long halls between he gained even swifter. When an arm as thick as a small tree throttled him to the ground Kurt no longer had any idea what part of the house they were in, the twists and turns worked along with his mind fog to lose himself even in someplace so familiar. As he fell to the beast upon him he expected to be devoured, or to have his neck twisted and snapped as easily as a dolls, or to be torn to shreds, or drug back to the ballroom to await whatever unholy plans the partygoers might have. What he was not expecting was the beast to curiously regard the wooden phallus that had fallen out of the fleeing lad’s pocket and the stiff protrusion that he still had despite his legs needing every ounce of blood he had in his flight. The beast stood upright, like a man, presenting his full form for Kurt to see. Having a moment to truly look he could take in the monster in its entirety. Standing at over eight feet tall the creature cut an imposing form. Sculpted from inhuman muscle under pale skin fitting neither a beast nor a human, his legs and shoulders covered in thick fur and feet ending in cloven hooves. He wore leather and silk, all in the areas where neither did any good, his torso was riddled with scars of battle and…some not. His features unhidden by his taught leather mask and four massive goat horns protruding from his head. And beyond this form that the dark gods had gifted him he had also more adornment on him, piercings and marks, of symbols that Kurt did not want to understand, as if his body was an altar upon which you worship ruinous powers. And beyond all of this he smelled, no, REEKED of the perfume, the perfume that sang like music in Kurt’s nose. The perfume produced by no flower, no fruit, a primal stench that slithered through his mind and sank hooks into his very soul._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Kurt had thought the beast was rearing up to attack, but he just stood there, letting the lad drink in the sight. A chance to run or…a chance to go willfully? Is that what the beast was offering? A chance to CONSENT to what was about to happen? This isn’t what he’d heard of the tales of the beastmen but, this clearly wasn’t any ordinary one. Looking as the beast hooked his thumb in the thick leather belt holding up his loincloth he realized he didn’t have any kind of choice here, and that a chance to go along with it was probably the best chance he was going to get tonight. Nothing was right about this though, his eyes followed the muscles dancing beneath the creature’s skin as it breathed, he was curious of the contents of that loin cloth, but it wasn’t right. He wasn’t man, he certainly wasn’t Walter, and this wasn’t the place. These kinds of things are supposed to happen behind closed doors, in beds, lit by candles, that kind of stuff. Not in some empty hallway, on the floor, lit only by the wicked moonlight of Morrslieb streaming through the window. But it looked like this was happening, here, and now, and with him. Kurt thought if this was how it had to be, he’d at least do his best to like it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Kurt didn’t have to move, didn’t have to voice his intent or even fully think it. The beast could tell, it’s twisted goat-like face managing what Kurt could only assume was a grin. He pulled his thumb out of his loincloth and moved upon Kurt. Still clutching the smoking bottle he was sucking fumes out of in the ballroom the beast forces it towards Kurtis’ face. The lip of the bottle was pushed into his mouth, the beastman’s spit still flavoring it, but something small still resisted in Kurt, enough that he held his breath._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Just take it in, breath it deep” _He could taste the whisper say.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But his choice was taken from him again as the bottle was removed and the Beastman’s massive hand clench around his neck. Panic replaced every sense as the massive creature easily strangled him, with a steady grip rapidly choking the life out of him. He choked desperate for any kind of air and when the grip released, he gasped deeply for what he could find. The only he found was in the bottle pushed back into his mouth. The beast pinched Kurt’s nose shut and pushed the bottles lip against his tonsils, the desperate gasps of a dying man took in every fume the bottle had to offer…and the last of Kurt’s will shattered like a bowl of crystal striking the ground._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The fog overtook him, coalesced, took form. Vivid colors danced against his eyes, his skin ablaze with heat and sound, his tongue alight with sights and smells. Something in him, a small, tiny twin tailed comet through his soul, told him that it wasn’t too late, that it’s still possible to resist, to die as he is. He considered it for but a moment before the perfume guttered its feeble flame. And at once the fog lifts, his senses and mind in perfect clarity. He knows exactly where he is, hundreds of steps away from the ballroom, he can count each one in reverse. He can still hear the music, the grunting, the slapping, but it’s distant now, as it should be. But most of all he can sense where he is now. He lay on the floor of the westernmost hallway of the first floor of the manor, and every scrap of the clothing he was wearing lay torn in a pile beneath him. The beast must have done this while he was…gone…finding his way. Strong hands and sharp nails tore his servant’s clothes as easily as they would part smoke, and yet not a drop of blood stained them. The beast stood again over him as once before, with his thumb in his belt, letting the servant drink in the sights. And drink he did, new clarity allowed Kurt to visit every angle of the muscle and sinew pushing the beastman’s skin taught. Not just a beastman, he recalled, a Slaangor, though he knew not what that meant. His sharp hearing only heard his own heartbeat and the beasts, matched together along the same beats. He could taste the salt of the monster’s sweat in the air. His eyes no longer fled from the symbols upon the creatures, most prominently a large one encircling the center of his abbs, a circle with a strange spiked extension, ending in a crescent moon. Kurtis enjoyed the sight of it and traced it with his finger. Realizing only then that the distance had closed between them he none the less didn’t even startle. Didn’t even know if he was the one that moved or the Slaangor. It didn’t matter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He hooked his hands into the beast’s belt, its buckle marked with an 8-pointed star he could have sworn he’d seen before but no longer cared where. Pulling the belt down he revealed what he’d been seeking: A massive shaft not too unlike a scaled up version of his own, suspending a pair of sizeable orbs churning with a devious potion Kurt desired more now than any oil or any sword he could have spent those worthless coins on. He found himself tracing his tongue along the Slaangor’s abs, tasting its delicious sweat from the flight through the halls. The smell of the perfume was gone to him now, only background noise, all he smelt was the beast itself, an aroma Kurt found curiously even more intoxicating. As his tongue reached the end of the abs, tracing the circular mark on his belly, he drew to the side, across the hips and down its furred thigh. If this beast’s body was an altar, then Kurtis was going to worship upon it. The beast grunted and hissed as Kurt ran his tongue up the inside of its thigh, resting the creatures weighted hair-covered sack upon his face and nose. Drinking deep the creatures scent he wondered briefly why he ever craved such a prize as Walter, impressive though he may be there’s no way he could match what’s about to happen to him here. As he took the first of the creature’s orbs into his mouth the whisper mused:_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Of course, you could just have both. Get ploughed by both…” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________His hand found purchase on his new partner’s muscular haunch; his tongue traced the shaft upwards until his lips found purchase on the tip of the creatures throbbing member._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Or till the untouched fields of both…” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He gripped the Slaangor’s cheeks as he pushed his mouth forward, taking the head, glans, and a portion of the steel hard shaft into himself all at once. He quickly found himself bottomed out, barely bobbing on the end of the beast’s rod as it smashed into his tonsils, trying to find a way further in. Kurt’s body may have remembered its limits but his mind and soul have washed them away along with the pink fog, and he found himself pushing harder despite the potential harm it could cause to him. Though the head of the shaft breached his throat he did not gag. “Curious” he thought, though not enough to stop himself from repeating the act a few more times as he savored the beast. The first globs of the creature’s pre-seed coated his tongue and painted his throat, a small offering perhaps for the Slaangor but to Kurt’s much smaller form the salty mixture proved a thick drink to swallow. He could feel the Slaangor’s haunches clenching under his hands as it pulsed, he spread them, he spanked them, he wanted little more than to somehow throw the beast down and claim its puckering hole as his own. But that wasn’t for today…gods, was he already considering doing this again? No, he could feel what was going to happen, what the Slaangor wanted. NEEDED. He pulled himself off the altar to his new god and presented to it an offering. He figured he’d pander to the creature’s baser instincts and they’d go as beasts do, faced away, on their hands and knees. The beast wasted no time accepting the offering but to his surprise had its own desires. He returned Kurt to facing him and laid him on his back, loosely upon the clothes he shredded off him moments ago. Kurt found himself looking into the eyes of the Slaangor directly, goat like pupils drawing him into a sea of black. His newfound clarity narrowed, he could no longer hear even the faintest whispers of the party, he could no longer see any of the hallway beyond the pile of clothes, the square portrait of moonlight cast from the window to frame this scene, and their two bodies. It was just him, the moon, the monster, and the whisper. Silent at the moment, but not gone, he could feel._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Kurtis mused: “I suppose we’ve got a private place after all”  
The beast spoke back, for the first time, in a guttural and crude speech, one that should have stung to the ears but rang as clear as Reikspiel in Kurt’s.  
The servant replied: “Well then take what you’re owed.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________And the beast moved. With a force unseen since the chase, it moved. With a strength that could snap trees, it moved. Gripping the young man’s legs, it sank itself into him, and the profane ritual began in earnest. Kurt found himself stretching around the intruder well beyond what he imagined was possible for him. Helped some by his efforts earlier, the oil that still clung to his ring, and the Slaangor’s own silky discharge, it was still a considerable challenge. He gasped out in a mix of pain and pleasure, for despite everything it was somehow both. The Gor continued to deepen his push, inch by agonizing inch. Fire danced through him and across his skin, the sounds and smells of his partner racked his mind harder than even the perfume did. He felt the beast hit a natural limit within him, something stopping his way, as the beast’s thick form pried apart the servant’s guts in a vain effort to go deeper. His eyes rolled back and his mouth frothed as he could feel parts of him inside giving way. A small horror dawned on him as he realized he could very easily die from this. As the thrusts worked deeper and more and more of the unholy beast-flesh forced him open this worry because almost a certainty. But somehow, even as the thrusts deepened, it never came. His insides were straining and straightening against the pillar of lust being driven into him and yet every limit inside of him simply…parted. Nothing tore, nothing ruptured, it just adjusted. Such things should not be possible, he thought, watching his stomach distend inhumanly.  
The whisper spoke:_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“You think too much, do not worry, your pledge to me is keeping you safe.” _  
“M-my pledge?”  
 _“Yes. You worship upon my altar here, now. And I would hate to see one with such a bright future go to waste.” _  
“You’re…what have you done?”  
 _“Oh no no no, what have YOU done child of the empire? You could have stayed in town, stayed in your room, snuck away from the gala, or even just let my friend here stomp your head flat or rape your guts open. But YOU consented to it—to it all. Came home to FUCK yourself instead of staying in a quiet inn, carried yourself to the ballroom on your own two WILLING feet, took one good look at this slab of muscle and cock and DROOLED at the prospect of exactly what you’re getting right now” _  
“But the perfume made me do those things”  
 _“Did it though? That scent has but the barest hint of my magic in it, simply a goad to do what one wants. It made you do absolutely NOTHING you didn’t want. But. Let me give you the benefit of doubt. Do you want me to stop him” _  
The voice cooed, the beast slowed, his eyes glassy and distant, his thrusting stopped. His lower head still breaching Kurt’s asshole but leaving a new emptiness in the human.  
“But he’ll kill me”  
 _“No he will not. I’ll leave him like this, you can run. Run into the city, you’ll be safe, alive, holy in the eyes of your god. But this…” _  
The Slaangore thrust back into Kurt’s bowels, even deeper than before, eliciting a yelp  
 _“This will stop. You have until he’s out to decide. If you don’t choose either, I’ll have him crush your skull into a pulp” _  
The beast began slowly, agonizingly, dragging itself out. It didn’t even manage to make it an inch.  
“Don’t. Just…please…let him keep going.”  
Kurtis has no idea how he could tell that the whisper smiled, but he knew with certainty that it did.  
 _“Then…enjoy. You will not die, not today at least. But you will experience every moment of it” ________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________And with that the whisper left. Its presence not completely gone, but no longer here. It was just him and the beast. The light of consciousness returned to the beast’s eyes as it regarded its surroundings. The two of them lay there for a moment, embraced, as the beast spoke. Its voice croaked its dark speech, incomprehensible and yet clearer than it’s ever been._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Wonder not, she blessed me I think. She said you will not kill me this night.”  
The beast spoke further, adjusting his grip on the small human’s calves, splaying his legs wide as they could go..  
“Wait, you mean to say you can go harDE---”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________The Slaangor drew Kurt into a forced kiss, but this wasn’t some tender kiss between lovers. The goat man’s maw clamped down over the small human’s mouth, forcing its monstrous tongue down his throat. The human’s neck bulged and strained but managed to contain the intruding appendage As the beast violated one end, he resumed his ploughing of the other. With a free pass to do as he pleases from his god, the Beastman no longer cared about the state of his victim and fucked him with unnatural vigor and strength. The thrusts, once slowly working in past Kurt’s inner restrictions, now ignored them and slammed home all the way to the balls, warping Kurt’s body to make room. The beast had killed with thrusts much weaker than that before, and now for the first time in years he can thrust into something with the full force of haunches that could crack stone. And Kurt felt everything. Absolutely everything. Every single inch of the monster that forced his insides into their current impossible shape, every bristle of its hair, every heartbeat, every drop of sweat it dripped, every tastebud on its tongue that now probed the depths of his esophagus denying him oxygen he no longer seemed to need. The tastes, smells, pain and pleasure should have overwhelmed him into unconsciousness, but he remained ever clear, experiencing every single drop of it. But beyond it all were the eyes, every single thrust, every twitch of the tongue, was met with full, unflinching eye contact. Kurt couldn’t break his gaze away, for as much as he was drinking in the beast impaling him it was just as much consuming him. The black hourglass shaped pools of his pupils threatened to drown the servant as he found himself able to almost peer into the mind behind them. Seeing his own reflection in them, clear as crystal, he could see how he was changing. An expression on his face that looked alien to him, his body bulging shifting beneath the skin and molding in ways to fit his new partner. His eyes contorting, changing shape to match the hourglasses staring just as deeply into his own. The two locked in a tornado of sensation, unable to glimpse even slightly the unnecessary information that surrounds them. If anyone were around to observe this twisted union, they would only glimpse a pair of rutting beasts lit by the cursed moon, hear only the mix of grunting, slapping, and the churning of the servant’s insides._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________They stayed like this for what seemed like forever but felt far too short. The Slaangor’s thrusting became ragged, he drew back his head and pulled his tongue out of the human beneath him. An hour ago, Kurt may have been horrified as the sixteen inches of tongue rapidly withdrew from his neck, but he was just as lost as the beast. The mouth was replaced by a massive hand, covering his face and pressing it hard into the floor. It hung its head, and thrust with slow pumping thrusts, the servant didn’t have to guess what was happening as he felt every single pulse of the beast’s cock, every single rope of profane seed blasting against his walls. He felt a grip release on himself, the one placed when he first failed to climax in his room, the one that had built up pressure through this entire night of sin. His seed burst forth in a torrent, harder than it ever has before, coating the skin between the two. His abdomen swelled slightly with the beastman’s offering, but with every rope he felt a very different burn. Each pulse, as the seed shot into his form, he noticed a burn on his stomach. Each pulse, it expanded. Each pulse, it sent a shockwave of pain through him. As the beastman slowed, staring into the eyes of his prey, pumping out the last few vile drops, the burn took shape. A circle, with a spiked line leading from it, ending in a crescent moon. Matching the one on his mate, he mused. The seed he shot upon himself pooled in the crevices of the burn as a calm settled over the two lovers. No…not lovers at all. Something quite a bit different than that.  
The pair stayed this way for a while, the beast looking over his new partner, plugging his hole shut with his meat, preventing any seed from spilling out. It felt curiosity and perhaps…affection towards the small twitching being stretched around his manhood. The tiny creature gripped the Gor’s hand, intertwining their fingers; a curious ritual he knew not the purpose of, but at the same time did not despise. He returned the grip with his own hand. He absently pulled the other hand off its face, cupping its chin and admiring the young servant. He opened its mouth, pulled on its tongue (much smaller than his own) and slid two of his fingers back across it before forcing them down its throat. The tiny human’s eyes barely reacted to the forced intrusion. It did not gag, it did not choke, its throat did not bleed as the razored nails pushed down the esophagus and scissored in its tiny neck. What an absolutely fascinating new toy he’d found._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________There was no “cleaning up” after the deed. Kurtis’ clothes were ripped to shreds on the floor and the Slaangor didn’t even bother returning to his loincloth. They felt no modesty, no shame, and they sure weren’t done for the night. Both were drenched in sweat and seed, stains of the ritual they had just completed. Their chests still slick with the human’s discharge and several pitchers full of profaned beast seed still pooled in Kurt’s deepest folds, held back by Kurt’s tight ring somehow unmarred by the violent treatment it received. The burn upon his stomach remained present though, still in the same shape it was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________The two walked the halls back towards the party side by side, no one prisoner to the other, each silent but both thirsting relentlessly for their opposite. They only had to stop once, to consume one another once again, before they stood at the ballroom door. The evidence of their two trysts marred the otherwise immaculate hall: Tattered cloth, gouged wood, dripping fluid, and a picture frame worked loose from its fittings by a 600lb slab of steel hard meat crushing its mate into the wall with hammerlike thrusts. Kurtis bore a new mark as well, a piercing through his left teat, bleeding and fresh. Matching the one upon the right nipple of his new partner, and the one now suspiciously absent from its left. And though both were now naked, Kurt bore a belt of leather upon his hip, one of the many inconsequential pieces of unhelpful clothing the beast wore, and upon that belt hung a slightly used but still quite serviceable sword. The Gor after all couldn’t have his new “doe” be taken from him easily._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________And as they readied to open the door to the gala before them Kurt felt a wind sweep through him. A wind with no earthly origin, swirling all around him, through him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________A wind of Chaos._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
